The Bitterest Pill
by YouSentMeFlying
Summary: Tate and his family move into the Murder House, a house haunted by several, but Tate's eyes are set on one ghost in particular. Violet Harmon.


**So this is my new two or three shot. I was bored last week at 3am and came up with an idea; what if Violet was the ghost, and Tate was the new kid moving in to the house? Basically, it's just me messing around with a plot while trying to shake this writer's block. ;P Hope you enjoy it anyway. **

Violet wandered the downstairs of the house she's lived in for several years. Every few months or so, a new boring family would move in and ruin the house she'd once loved. The first few times she decided to mess with those families gave her joy, but lately she was wishing someone interesting would finally move in. A family different from all of the others' – a family that could actually entertain her, rather than bore her.

She'd heard Moira talking to Violet's mother, Vivien earlier about yet another couple with a teenage son and daughter moving in sometime this afternoon. Maybe this one would have a little bit of life in them unlike the others; Violet hated the thought of never leaving this house.

She sat down on the last bottom step on the staircase with a terse sigh. And a car door slammed from a distance, just outside the house – the new owners must've gotten here earlier than expected.

Violet looked around the downstairs one more time, her eyes scanning over every little detail of the living room. The furniture from the previous house owners still covered the floors and walls. It wouldn't be too much longer until this new family destroyed everything on the inside. They were most likely a bunch of hippie weirdoes who liked bright colours and would shower the house in neon greens, pinks, and purples. _How depressing._

The front door swung open quickly, a middle-aged couple walking through the foyer, juggling armfuls of suitcases in along with them. The woman, who looked the oldest, had short blonde hair falling just above her shoulders. She was beautiful for someone in her late forties.

A younger male sat his suitcases down to the hardwood floor and crossed his arms firmly over his chest. An old, tore up black fedora sat on the top of his head swiftly; hair of a dark shade was sticking out messily from under the hat.

Violet definitely wouldn't be attempting to get these people out of the house; they were older, and even though she felt lonely at times, she wouldn't want to force them into a heart attack. No one else was being stuck here for eternity if she could help it.

The woman called for someone, sticking her head out the door to look out into the yard where the sun shone down brightly. It was the middle of November and over 80 degrees; you gotta love the weather in California.

Two younger teenagers walked through; they both looked depressed, like they didn't want to be anywhere near this place. But Violet didn't blame them.

Violet began to wonder where these people had moved from. By their lack of tans, and heavier clothing, she'd guessed it was somewhere much cooler. Maybe Illinois or Virginia, somewhere there was a good amount of snow.

"Now Addie, I don't want you having any attitude with me about this house," the lady spoke. "We're staying here. Alright, that goes for the both of you." She was talking to the boy now. His hair had been dyed a dirty blonde colour, wearing a horizontal striped green and black shirt. His brown eyes stared through Violet, and her heart sped up in her chest. She'd almost forgotten for a moment that the Kurt Cobain look-alike couldn't see her.

"Sure mom," the boy replied, his voice as heavy as velvet. "This place looks pretty badass anyway." That was a lie. After spending fifteen years of your afterlife in the same house, it got to be more than entirely boring. Time would pass by quickly at first, but it seemed like each God forsaken day moved by slower and slower. "And didn't the saleslady say someone died in here? Bone trembling, but still pretty cool." Violet smiled at the boy's comment. "Hey, maybe one of the spirits will rid us of Larry. It's only about time, right?" More often than not, Violet felt less purpose not to burn this house down to the ground. And she couldn't help but to think back to that night, her warm blood throbbing at her temples as she remembered everything – the night that it happened.

The first time she had realized what was going on with her, she was approached by Chad, who made her sound like a pathetic child for not figuring it out on her own. Apparently she'd spent a full month the way she was now before coming to the conclusion that she was really gone for good.

"I'll go unpack," Addie said lazily as she reached for her purple suitcase.

Violet stood from the steps to move aside for the girl to find her way to her new room. Her brown curls bounced at her shoulders as she made her way up the staircase; Violet smiled and watched after her. This family wasn't going to be too bad after all.

xxx

Violet rapped her knuckles against the front door of the Murder House mansion, waiting for someone to let her in. It's been a little over a week since the family moved in and got everything settled. She'd been watching them, and she decided it was time to introduce herself to the family of four; make herself known to the human eye.

The door creaked open, exposing Addie Langdon with a large smile tugging at her lips. "Can I help you?" the girl asked quickly.

Violet nodded, "I'm here for Dr. Harvey. I have an appointment…"

Larry Harvey was a trained, professional Psychologist, seeing patients in the home office just down the hall. He and Constance had gotten married a few years back after her previous husband, Hugo died on her. Tate wasn't very fond of Larry, he never has been, but he had to tolerate him for the sake of Constance.

"Larry!" Addie called as she beckoned Violet to step inside. "There's a girl here with an appointment!" Violet laughed awkwardly and looked down at her feet, waiting. "You are very pretty," Addie complimented, smiling once more.

Soon after, Larry appeared from out of the dark hallway, carrying a clipboard along with him. "Are you Violet Harmon?" he questioned once he was finally at the front door. He cupped his hand over Addie's shoulder. She knew that his appointments were strictly confidential between him and his patients. But she couldn't help but to be curious and want to stick around to hear their stories. Violet didn't mind at all anyway; she had nothing to hide from anyone. "Right this way." He scooted Addie toward the kitchen and guided Violet down the long hallway to find his office. Though, she already knew where exactly to find it.

Larry's first diagnosis impression of Violet was simple – Manic Depression Disorder; that her heart was crushed by some irrelevant guy and she needed help to get over her pain. He'd seen it in a lot of patients back home, so it came pretty obvious to him. Although, that wasn't what was wrong with her in the least bit.

Violet plopped down in the leather chair and sighed anxiously – this was going to be an interesting hour. At least it was a good way to waste her time.

Larry gracefully sat down on the chair directly across from the coffee table and placed his fedora down on it. "So Violet, what are you doing here today?" He pressed the 'record' button his tape recorder, preparing himself to spend another hour of his precious time attending to a meaningless patient he couldn't give two shits about.

"I'm kind of nervous," she breathed. And that was true; she hadn't tried forming a friendly relationship with someone in the longest time and she was afraid she would screw it up.

"That's completely normal, just go ahead and start when you're ready."

Violet nodded and began picking at the loose string hanging off the knee of her skinny jeans. Larry watched her as she did so, wishing she would hurry up with her story so he could move on with his day. "I have these dreams," she finally started, not daring to look him in the eyes. "And they're not always very simple." Larry doodled on the side of his notepad as he listened intently to what Violet was saying. "There's this one; I feel like I'm completely paralyzed; all I can feel in my entire body is being pricked with a thousand little needles at once. Everywhere. My eyes are forced open, I can't shut them, and I'm staring straight up at the ceiling in my dark bedroom. I'm terrified." Violet took notice in Larry's lack of interest, but she continued on anyway. "My lungs are collapsing; I feel like I'm falling now; my veins are ice cold, shivering; my heart comes to a sudden stop." She shuttered at the remembrance of the dreams. She's had this same dream every night –when she could bring herself to fall asleep. Since she slipped and sliced her wrist a little too deep that day, she's been having troubles sleeping. "Do you have any idea what this one might mean?"

Larry dropped his pen into his lap and thought for a moment. "This continues often?"

"The same dream repeats every night. But the intensity grows each time."

"Have you recently lost someone close to you? Normally these dreams are a way of telling you, you need to let your feelings out. Death can trigger this… this feeling of despair, if you may; like you're dying."

"My parents died two years ago." But she knew that had nothing to do with these dreams; they were still in the house with her to this very day. But she'd talked to everyone else in the house, and none of them ever had this type of experience when attempting to fall asleep.

Larry scribbled something down on his notepad. "Sounds like that's the root of your problem. Find someone to talk to; someone you can trust and get closer to. That's your challenge for this week – do you think you can do that?"

Violet nodded, only one person coming to mind; someone who lived in this house. _Tate Langdon. _"I have other dreams too… but if it's alright with you, Dr. Harvey, I'd rather wait until next week when I'm more comfortable. Do you think you can let me go early today?" Larry pressed the 'stop' button on the tape recorder, and took the miniature tape out of the holder. He wouldn't mind talking to Violet more about these dreams, but letting her leave earlier would give him a half hour extra to himself. "I'll show myself out."

Her mind was elsewhere – lost in her own thoughts – as she started herself down the hall. That is, until after she crashed into a hard figure standing before her. Violet's eyes squeezed shut as she was taken aback, catching her footing before her legs got the chance to fall beneath her. She grabbed onto the wall and sighed in relief once she regained recognition of where she was headed from. "Would you watch it?" someone exclaimed from in front of her. It must have been the person she bumped in to.

"I'm sorry," she told him honestly, her eyes wandering up the front of a pea-green sweater that clung to the chest of the young male.

"That's okay," the voice returned. "I thought you were someone else."

Violet's eyes finally met his brown, almost luring ones, making her go weak at the knees the second she set her sights on him. She would watch him around the house occasionally and thought nearly nothing of him. But finally getting to meet him properly, face-to-face, was a totally different story. It's been over fifteen years since she's found such strong attraction to someone; it almost wasn't human. No pun intended.

"Hello," he waved a hand inches away from Violet's face, trying to snap her out of whatever world she'd escaped to. "I asked you what your name was."

"Right," she cleared her throat roughly. "Violet Harmon. I'm a new patient of your dad's."

Tate flinched, his blonde hair showering over his sparkling eyes softly. "No, no, please don't call him that. Larry will never be my dad."

"Sorry, I didn't know," She told him awkwardly, chewing on her bottom lip. "Since I told you my name, what's yours?"

He smirked a little, backing up from her, indicating he wanted her to follow him. Larry had warned Tate many times to stay away from his patients since neither of them had no idea what they were all capable of, considering a majority were extremely dangerous. Tate had followed Larry's rules for the most part, but there was something intriguing, mysterious about Violet that made him want to get to know her.

Violet laughed a little under her breath, following Tate as he carefully led her toward the staircase, taking her hand willfully in his own. She had figured he was playing some sort of game with her, and she knew she had no reason to be afraid of him. There was that glimmer in his chestnut eyes; something so sweet that it could be easily mistaken as a filthy possibility, and yet it drew her in.

They reached the top of the stairs quickly, Violet almost tripping a few times by running up the steep steps faster than she ever has – Tate must be in pretty nice shape to keep his footing so smoothly.

Tate rounded the corner, letting Violet's hand go as he motioned for her to step into his bedroom. She didn't think today would be so crammed with activities after just now truly meeting the new Murder House owners. But it's not like she had something else to do, or had to be anywhere today that she had to leave Tate alone to wallow in self-pity. He's been bullied all his life for being a little different from everyone else; he thought moving here would give him a chance to be someone new, but he thought wrong. Basically everyone at his new school hated him, and none of them even tried to get to know him before pushing him around all the time. Violet would be his first friend since grade school, and it would truly mean a lot to him if she wasn't like any of the others.

"So… this is your room." Violet looked around at the half-unpacked boxes that covered the floorings. He shared the same room that she once had before she passed on. Now, Violet was spending her nights tossing and turning on the floor of the attic with a throw-pillow and old, musty quilt that Vivien had hand-made a decade ago. "Can I ask why you brought me up here?"

Tate chuckled and sat Indian style down on the hardwood floor, leaning his stiff back up against his now closed bedroom door. Violet did the same, sitting across from him and popping her lips together softly. "I wanted to warn you about Larry," she shrugged. "He claims to be a doctor, but he can't even get dressed on his own in the morning. According to him…" he leaned over and grabbed a small plastic basket from under his desk, exposing several brown pill bottles. "I am Schizophrenic, Bipolar," he pegged the diagnoses off on the tips of his fingers. "Psychopathic, and seriously depressed." He picked up one of the bottles and popped the lid off, dumping a few of them into the palm of his hand. "And these babies help me with my ADHD." Obviously he was telling her, Larry Harvey was a complete fraud when it came to his supposed job.

Violet looked at him, confused. Her eyes narrowed and she reached over to take two of the white pills from him, rolling one of them between her index finger and thumb. She hadn't tried taking any pills since the accident, so she was unsure if these would do anything at all for her. Although, she'd been smoking like a fish and still got the same feeling out of it than before the incident. "That's bullshit. I wonder what he'll diagnose_ me_ with," she laughed quietly, throwing the pills in her mouth and gulping them down dryly. "Can you tell me your name now?" even though she already knew the name of the boy sitting inches away from him, she still wanted to hear it from him.

Tate swallowed the pills down like it was no problem, nodding toward her. "I'm Tate. Tate Langdon."

"Well, _Tate,_" she brushed loose strands of her blonde hair out of her face, and tucked them under her purple hat. "Where did you move from?"

"Michigan," He rolled eyes. "Not the best place to live, but at least it wasn't 80 degrees and sunny every day. I love when the leaves change."

"Me, too!" she smiled brightly, her white teeth glistening under the dimly lit room. It was nice to have a normal, enjoyable conversation with someone for once; it just wasn't the same talking to her friends in the house.

It was quiet for a bit, but not an awkward silence, it was just the right amount of comfortable.

Tate liked Violet; it was hard to find good company nowadays, someone you can get along with. Violet was like his other half; his partner in crime, if you will. This was just the beginning of their growing friendship, and he knew it could only get much better from this point on.

…**And I still have writer's block. Lol the next chapter will most likely be a bit longer, but I'm not exactly sure when I'll have the time to update next. Hopefully very soon! **


End file.
